


Momentum

by FaeriMagic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Mild Language, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeriMagic/pseuds/FaeriMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ushijima was never one for displays of affection. All he ever talked about was his sport, after all, and even then his words were blunt and uninspiring since all he really seemed to care about was winning. But then...something changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentum

**Author's Note:**

> When will I write for my beloved Ennoshita...? I don't know... DX
> 
> But, like, I came up with this idea this morning, and Ushijima fitted the bill. It was really hard to write this, though.

Ushijima was never one for displays of affection. Sometimes, people would wonder what you ever saw in the stoic volleyball player. All he ever talked about was his sport, after all, and even then his words were blunt and uninspiring since all he really seemed to care about was winning.  
  
And for Ushijima, that was fine. Winning was the whole point of playing volleyball, right? Pointless monologues about the importance of friendship were what lesser players held onto. He was more than just a volleyball player. He was one of the best, surrounded by other superb players who all had the mutual understanding that only victory mattered.  
  
But then...something changed. Something else caught his attention. Somehow, you managed to worm yourself into his life and it was a mystery to him why you decided to stay, even after uncovering his bland disposition.  
  
You were a journalist, green and inexperienced. Or so he was told. He honestly couldn't tell due to the serious manner you proceeded with the interview. The cafe was loud and busy. Children were laughing and crying from a few tables away. It was a highly unprofessional setting, but it was the best that he could manage with so little time to prepare.  
  
And yet, you didn't seem daunted at all. Your eyes were focused and your voice was clear, steady. In retrospect, he supposed that it was this professional demeanor that made him attracted to you.  
  
He began to notice you more. You weren't just a random stranger he'd run past during his jogs. You were _someone_ now.  He'd start to see glimpses of you everywhere. Tapping away on your phone as you walked briskly past him. Reading a novel at the bus stop. Looking into a store window before moving on. You were always distracted, always busy.  
  
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when your distraction caused you to collide into him one day, accidentally spilling your iced coffee onto him in the process. You spluttered and panicked, wondering if your first impression at the interview was ruined by this fiasco. I mean, this was _Ushijima Wakatoshi_. Your newfound career might just spiral down into nothing if you didn't fix this. You wanted, _demanded_ , to buy him a new shirt as compensation. He refused.

"Please," You said, struggling to keep your composure. "I feel terrible, what can I do to make it up to you?"

Ushijima frowned. He didn't like your clouded eyes. It bothered him. No matter how much he tried to brush the incident off, you were still set on trying to make it up to him. Ushijima sighed as he tried to think of a request that would satisfy you. "If you really need to feel better about yourself, then take me out to eat dinner." Ushijima said. You immediately agreed to this, feeling relieved that a simple dinner was all it took to keep your good standing with him.

What neither of you realized was that this dinner was only the first in a series of "casual night outs". It began with polite conversations about each others' work, before transitioning into light banters and chats. These outings soon evolved into "sorta-dates" where the two of you would visit theme parks or movies in order to escape the daily stresses of work. Even though he wasn't the type of person to laugh often, he found himself smiling a lot more when he was with you. These "casual night outs" became a necessity that he found difficult to live without.

"Ushijima-san, you know I love you, right?" You said one day, your voice just slightly less confidant than usual. "Do you feel the same way?" Ushijima glanced at you. The relationship had never been discussed before, so it had always been ambiguous. He had always defaulted you to being his close friend in his mind; it had never occurred to him to consider you in a romantic light.

But he liked it when you laughed. Your usual business-is-first manner carried on in everything that you did, but occasionally a smile or chuckle would slip out. He liked those moments the most because for a brief instant, you were so _human_ and _beautiful_. You were so _alive_.

Details began to flood into his mind. The little pout that you had as you edited an article. Your sleepy yawns before you had any coffee. Your refreshing voice on the phone that asked him about his day. "You matter a lot to me." Ushijima finally said. "I like you. I really like you."

You look away in embarrassment. "So does this mean we're a couple now?" You try to laugh.

Ushijima smiles. "If you'd like to."

* * *

The relationship was no different than usual, except for the occasional kiss. He had his volleyball duties while you had your assignments to work on. It's been a few years since you both became a couple, but despite living under the same roof he rarely got to see you except in passing.

But for the both of you, that was fine. Work was priority, after all. Often times, the weeks went by in a blur of papers and energy drinks, with only a night of stress-relief here and there to break the momentum. For the most part, you both spent your time together sleeping. Legs overlapping one another, he would lie in bed as he drank in your presence beside him before slipping into a blissful slumber.

"Waka, I'm leaving." You said one day as you leaned in to give him a kiss. "I'll be back in a week, but depending on the circumstances, the assignment might take a bit longer. Don't miss me, alright? I'll be back before you know it!"

Wakatoshi pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "I'll be waiting for you with a smile, then."

You gave a chuckle. "You better!"

* * *

Wakatoshi had tried calling your cell a few times, but since he wasn't able to get through, he assumed that you were in a place with no reception. This sort of thing happened occasionally, so he saw no reason to worry. The more impending worries, such as winning a match against another team, took up more of his mind. When the week was over, he tried calling you again. And again. And once more. A gnawing worry began to settle in the pit of his stomach. He reminded himself that the assignment was just taking longer than usual. You even told him that your return might be delayed. All of this worrying that he was doing was all pointless. You were going to come home and tease him for fretting so much, he was sure of it.

It was three days later when he heard the news. He was sitting in that old coffee shop when the corner TV spoke your name. He saw your face plastered on the screen with a subtitle that said "Reporter Killed In Accident", and heard the anchor recount details that his mind couldn't register.

He was dreaming. That was it. You couldn't be gone. He couldn't accept it. You were alive. That wasn't you in the coffin. That wasn't you they were lowering in the ground. This funeral was a dream. The sobbing of your parents were much too hollow to be real. When he took one last final look at you lying peacefully, not a tear dropped from his eyes. That much in itself was proof that it was all a dream ...right?

* * *

Ushijima woke up feeling cold. He groaned. "Stop turning the air condition on so often." He called out in exasperation. He was going to turn into an ice cube one day if you kept on doing that. He crawled out of the empty bed and made his way to the kitchen where you usually read the morning news. "Oi, did you hear me?"

The kitchen was empty. You weren't at the table in the kitchen. You weren't anywhere. Ushijima stood there confused and wondering where you were for a minute before remembering his nightmare. "No." He breathed. "No no no no _no_...!" He said as he ran back to the bedroom.

Almost all of your belongings had been returned to your grieving parents, leaving the room almost completely bare of any traces of you. The bed was unwrinkled, as if only he was the sole owner of it. The air itself felt empty and cold.

Ushijima sank down onto the ground. Suddenly, the emptiness he tried so hard to ignore seemed so prominent. He had tried to deny the truth as best as he could for the past few months, but he couldn't keep up the illusion anymore. The dream was real. You were gone. Fresh hot tears dripped onto his hands as his body shook.

It was the memories and details that tortured him. It was unfair how much he regretted things he never regretted before. Ushijima grabbed a nearby volleyball and began spiking it into the wall, his vision clouded by his tears. He would never see your face break out into a smile. He would never hear you say his name again. He should have told you that he loved you more. He should have taken some time off from work. He should have taken you on more dates. He should have kissed you more. Goddammit, he should have _married_ you by now. 

If he knew that you were going to leave him this soon, he would have been prepared. He would have made sure you were always happy. He would have made sure you were always smiling. He would have never missed the chance to let you know how much he loved you. He would have... _he would have_...

* * *

Ushijima was a volleyball manager. His days on the court were long gone, but he maintained his legend as the Super Ace of days past. He was single, and had retained that status for many years. When asked about his previous romantic endeavors, he'd reply that he had no interest in the topic. He never dated, and as far as anyone knew, he never had.

Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he did date. His partner would be, say, a journalist, with a business-like personality. They'd have a bright smile, clear eyes, and a beautiful laugh. They'd make him feel whole and complete and that everything in the world was just right.

But that was just wishful thinking. He never fell in love with a journalist, and he never would. It was better not to think about...delusions. He would carry on with his work, support his team and give valuable game advice. He would go home and sleep, then wake up and forget about his dreams and repeat it all once more. Day after day, month after month, year after year. It was a good job, and he was comfortable.

He was...fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent so long on this. ; - ; I don't really write angst that often.


End file.
